Finding My Father
by wonderland-bliss
Summary: Hanna thought her life couldn't get any worse when her best friend turned out to be her tormenter and worst enemy. But she's in for more insanity and chaos when she learns who her real father is. Rated T for language.
1. More Revelations

Hi guys! So this is another PLL/The Dark Knight crossover. It's probably the last two things you'd think of combining, but it's worked surprisingly well for me! This idea came to me while I was in the middle of writing my other story (which you all should check out), and it might even be a stronger story than the other one. As I was thinking about how the Joker's dynamic with each of the four PLL girls, Hanna's turned out to be the most fun and intriguing, because of how they have similar senses of humor and how opposite their personalities are at the same time. With all of Hanna's problems with her dad, stepmom and stepsister on the TV show, she was perfect for this story! The story takes place a week after the PLLs find out that Mona is A. Hopefully this isn't too similar to the other Joker-has-a-daughter stories out there. If you haven't watched the show before, some of the stuff in here might not make sense so you might want to look up Hanna Marin on wikipedia first, but if so, I hope you like it! Reviews and suggestions are always welcome!

Note: I don't own The Dark Knight or Pretty Little Liars!

* * *

"I still don't understand why you couldn't tell me all this, Hanna," my mom, Ashley, shakes her head as we sip coffee in our kitchen. "I would've done _everything _to protect you."

"It was too dangerous," I insist. "Mona would've gone after you, too, and that was the last thing I wanted."

"We could've gone to the cops," she said. "They would've taken care of her a long time ago."

_No, they wouldn't have_, I want to tell my mom. I'm willing to bet that Mona paid them all to not do anything if any of us went to them. Wilden was in on it, for sure; I bet Garrett was, too. I'm so glad he's behind bars now. But if we went to the cops – any of us – Mona probably would've killed us in our sleep or something afterwards.

"I don't know," I shrug, not knowing what else to say without giving too much away. Even with Mona gone, I still feel like there's someone else still out there, waiting.

It amazes me, honestly, how Mona managed to hit me with a car the night of her birthday party – her "glamping" party, she called it – and not feel sorry about it at all! I feel sick now thinking about when she visited me at the hospital afterward, acting like she was my friend. Not to mention she tricked Caleb into making out with her! I _trusted _that bitch, and she betrayed me! It makes me wonder if she was ever really my friend, or if our friendship was just her way of getting revenge.

"Tom called about half an hour ago," my mom continues after a few moments of silence. "He's worried about you."

"So you're calling him Tom now?" I raise my eyebrows, with a small smile. I'm still upset with him; he treats Kate like his daughter now, instead of me.

"Well, he's not exactly your father," my mom takes a sip from her white coffee mug.

"He definitely hasn't been acting like one," I agree. It took her this long to finally admit that to herself?

"That's not what I meant," she looks at me directly with a serious face.

I look up at her, surprised by her response. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

My mom purses her lips together, licks them, and takes a deep breath, like she always does whenever she's about to tell me something big. What is it _now_, Isabel's eggo is preggo?

"Tom was never really your father to begin with."

I nearly spit out my coffee right after she said that. "WHAT?"

My mom's facial expression changes, and she looks really sad all of a sudden. "I'm sorry." Her voice was barely a whisper.

Anger boils inside me now. I can't even begin to describe how much I hate my dad for choosing Isabel and Kate over Mom and I, and now I'm starting to hate her too. First she lies about the money she stole from a poor lady's bank account, and now she tells me she lied about my own father! Now my entire _life_ has been a lie. And I thought things would be better without A breathing down my back.

"Why?" I ask, doing everything I can not to yell at her.

She doesn't answer.

"My whole life feels like a lie now, thanks to you, you know that?" I'm almost yelling, but I don't care at this point. I've been through enough shit to the point where I'm this close to not caring about _anything_!

She still doesn't say anything, so I put my cup and saucer into the sink and leave. "You know what? Fine. Don't tell me. I don't even want to know anymore." That was a fat lie, and we both knew it, but I don't want to say anything I'll regret later.

I storm into my room, crying. I've been holding back for this past week since finding out that one of my best friends turned out to be the one that's been torturing me this entire fucking year, but I can't hold it in any longer. I can only imagine how Emily's holding up; Mona probably killed Maya, too. Aria and Spencer have called and/or texted me asking how I'm doing, since they know I was closest to Mona, but I haven't answered. I think they understand; they probably do. They were there for me when Mona wasn't, and especially when _Ali _wasn't.

I walk over to my side table, and a picture of Mona and I making silly faces last summer before junior year sits there, looking right at me. It's a pretty frame too, a simple white frame with a Coco Chanel symbol right in the center on top. I carefully slip out the picture and rip it in half, ripping Mona's half into pieces before tossing it in my trash bin. I hang my half on my mannequin next to an old picture of our group with Alison; our last group picture that was taken a few weeks before she died. I smile at that bittersweet memory.

_Knock, knock_.

"Hanna?"

My mom.

"I don't wanna talk right now," I sniffle, grabbing a Kleenex from my vanity and wiping my eyes away.

She comes in anyway. _Of course._

She sits on my bed with her hands folded neatly in her lap, waiting for me to join her. I sigh and do so, crossing my arms.

"That probably wasn't the best time for me to break the news to you," she finally said. "But either way, your reaction would've been more or less the same."

I nod. She's definitely right about that. "So," I begin, "If…Tom…isn't my dad, then who is?"

"I suppose I should start from the beginning," my mom said, still in that same, quiet voice she uses when she's telling me a sad story. "I grew up and lived in Gotham City my entire life, up until I was your age. I lived in the tougher part of town, near the Narrows."

"The Narrows?" I ask, confused.

"It was a very scary neighborhood," she explained. "Arkham Asylum – where the most dangerous criminals are held – was only three blocks from where I lived. You couldn't be out once the sun went down; that's when all the crime bosses came out. I saw every day I survived without a scratch as a blessing; I learned the value of life that way. Anyway, I met your father when we were six. His name was Jack. Jack Napier. There were some bullies on the playground at school picking on him, calling him a freak because he didn't talk much and kept to himself a lot. I felt sorry for him, and I invited him to help me finish my sandcastle." She pauses to smile for a minute. "Later that day, I discovered he lived next door, and we became close friends. We were inseparable. As I got to know him better, I learned that he had a very tough life; his father would beat his mother every day in front of him, and he'd throw empty glass bottles at him, too. Every day, he had a new story to tell me. He came over to our house a lot to get away; he was practically part of the family."

"What about his mom?" I ask.

"He loved his mom very, _very _much," she said. "She was the most important woman in his life, besides me. Our friendship eventually became a relationship when we were fifteen. Then one day, we decided to have sex. It was the first time for both of us, and it ended up being a very special moment. Everything was normal afterwards until about two weeks later. I started feeling sick every morning, and I'd start throwing up randomly. I found out the next day that I was pregnant after being tested at school. Being your age at the time, I was far too scared to tell my mother. I was devastated, but I decided right then and there I was going to keep you. Many people tried to talk me out of it, but I stood my ground. I went over to Jack's later that day to meet his parents, like we'd planned a few days before, and I'd also planned to tell him about my being pregnant. But suddenly, everything that could've possibly gone wrong went wrong before my very eyes.

"His father – this huge, bulky man that looked like a sumo wrestler – was holding him against the refrigerator, with a _knife _in his mouth, slowly cutting back and forth in his mouth. His mother lay dead on the floor, with blood bleeding out of her head. Jack had this fearful, yet crazed look in his eye as his father grabbed him by his hair and cut back and forth on the other side, too. I wanted to help so badly, but I was too horrified to say or do anything; I don't think he even knew I was there. Then, the weirdest, most bizarre thing happened right as I turned. Jack laughed. This crazed, maniacal _cackle_. While his father was shocked at him, he took the knife and stabbed him. _His own father_. Jack _stabbed _him repeatedly in the chest and neck before jamming it into his heart."

I stare at my mom in disbelief. "He killed his own dad? And _laughed _about it?" And I thought _Mona_ was bad.

"What he did was wrong," my mom said, "absolutely, but I wasn't surprised, with everything he'd gone through. He just cracked. It just made me sad to see him come to that and go to that extreme. By the time he finished laughing, he noticed me standing in the doorway, and his face changed, like he suddenly felt awful for what he did. 'Ashley, I can explain,' he said, but his voice…wasn't his. It was like he was a whole different person. Everything I knew about him – or _thought _I knew – just went down the drain right then and there. I was scared for my life, and for yours, too. I turned and ran, without looking back and hopped on the first train that passed through the Gotham train station, and I eventually ended up here in Rosewood."

I suddenly feel bad for everything I said about Tom, Isabel, or even Kate; I even regret breaking up their wedding. After hearing Mom's story about my real father, I realize now I could've had it way worse. "Mom…I'm so sorry." I lean over to give her a hug.

"It was hard for awhile, dealing with my best friend turning into what he did. He was put into Arkham for the next ten years before escaping. But once he escaped, he wasn't Jack anymore."

My mom stops again to take a deep breath. "He was…"

"The Joker," I finish for her.

* * *

So should I continue? Sorry if some things are unclear. I will give more background in the next chapter. I have some great ideas for this, but I want to hear your thoughts first!


	2. Gotham and Grammy

Again, I own nothing except the plot. Enjoy!

* * *

"How did you know?" Mom asks.

"He blew up a hospital like two days ago," I shrug. "It was one of the top headlines on Google News."

"You read the news?" My mom is surprised, and I don't blame her. I usually avoid it, unless it's celebrity news, but after all that's happened, I decided that I should be a little more aware of what's going on elsewhere, instead of just this Rosewood bubble I live in.

"Not really, I just happened to see it on the front page," I answer her.

"But going back to what I was saying, yes, he was the Joker," she continues. "When I came to Rosewood I had absolutely nothing. Then Tom came along, while I was about six months pregnant with you, and we hit it off. We married shortly after you were born, and he adopted you, hence your name: Hanna Lindsey Marin."

I nod, processing what my mom just told me. I guess it explains a lot, like why I don't really look like him and why I have a temper sometimes. It's weird, though, not calling Tom "Dad" anymore. And after her story about the Joker, this may sound really crazy, but I kinda want to meet him. He might be a murdering psychopath, but he's still my dad, and I want to get to know him. If he loved my mom as much as my mom says he did, I don't think he'll hurt me. And I bet, deep down, underneath all that ridiculous make-up and greasy hair, there's still some kindness left in him. There _has _to be.

"Mom," I break the silence.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"What if I told you…I wanted to meet the Joker?"

My mom doesn't like the idea of this; I can tell from her face. "Honey, it's not that I don't want you to meet him, it's just, there's no knowing what he'd do to you. I'm not sure where his mind is nowadays. He's in his own little world."

"Think about it," I say, suddenly excited. "I need a break from Rosewood; a change of environment. A summer in Gotham City? This is perfect, Mom!"

"So you want another psycho in your life?" my mom raises her eyebrows.

"Maybe he just needs a little love," I suggest. Whoa, did I just say that a murdering psychopath needs love? "I bet Jack – the guy you fell in love with – is still in there, somewhere."

"I don't know," she shakes her head. "I watched him go insane before my very eyes. I wish I could say I know him, but I don't. Not anymore."

"Please, Mom?"

She hesitates before placing her hand on mine. "Are you sure about this, Hanna?"

"Yes," I insist. "I'm positive."

She sighs. "You're seventeen, and in a year you'll be graduating high school. I trust that you're old enough to make this decision. If this is something you feel you should do, I won't stop you."

"Thank you, Mom!" I hug her, thanking her.

"But on one condition," she holds up her right index finger.

"Sure," I agree.

"You have to call me every day so that I know my baby girl is safe," she placed her hands on my shoulders.

"Aw, _Mom!_" I roll my eyes.

"This is the _Joker _we're talking about here," she reminds me. "Seventeen years ago, I might have trusted him, but I don't know how he is now." She pauses. "Pack your Louis Vuitton suitcase."

"You'll take me?" I light up.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," she smiles.

An hour and a half later, we're crossing the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge in our black Mercedes SUV. "Mom, where am I going to stay?" I ask.

"Your grandmother's," she simply answers. "You'll get to see where I grew up." She gives me a tight smile.

"I thought you said it's sketch," I raise my eyebrows.

"During the day it's…decent," she tells me. "But whatever you do, don't walk around alone at night. Not in the area where I grew up, anyway."

"Yeah definitely," I agree. "I'll just call a taxi if I end up spending the day at the mall, or something."

"Be careful about that," she warned. "The crime lords use taxis as a way to catch their next victims."

"Is there _anywhere_ safe in this city?" I ask.

"Of course," she nods. "There's the nicer part of town, in the southern part of Gotham, where Wayne Enterprises is. I didn't spend a whole lot of time there myself, but there are lots of shopping areas around there, which I'm sure you're more than interested in."

"You know me too well," I giggle slightly.

She finally pulls up to a run-down looking brick building and parks her car at the curb. "Got everything?" she asks, gesturing to my 2 Louis Vuitton suitcases, plus my backpack filled with my cosmetics and bath stuff.

"I think so," I nod. "Are you going to come in?"

My mom turns. "Yes, I think I will."

She and I stand at the deep red door as I ring the doorbell.

About a minute later, a short, brunette sixty-year-old (give or take a few years) lady about my height answers the door.

"Can I help you?" she asks us.

"Mom, don't tell me you don't remember," my mom says.

The lady's blue eyes widen in shock. "Oh, Ashley!" she gives my mom a big hug. I grab my mom's keys, roll up the windows, and lock the car before following them in.

The old lady turns to me. "And who might this beautiful young lady be?"

"Mom," my mom gestures to me. "Meet Hanna Lindsey Marin, your granddaughter."

The old lady turns to me. "You look just like your mother," her eyes begin tearing up. "So beautiful."

"Thanks…" I smile politely, not sure what to call him.

"Call me Grammy," she says, as though she read my thoughts.

"Grammy," I repeat with an assuring nod.

"So what brings you back, after all these years?" she asks us, as she brings us some hot tea and scones. "You never told me you were pregnant, Ash," she adds, giving my mom a slight disapproving look.

"I was scared," my mom explains. "Especially with who the father is…or _was_."

Grammy suddenly looks up, realizing who my mom is referring to. "It can't be."

"That's why we came," my mom says, when I couldn't find the right words to say. "Hanna wants to know more about him."

Grammy looks away, and I could tell she wants to cry. "He was practically my son," she says quietly. "Such a quiet boy. But very polite, and nice too. To think he did that to his own _father_…it broke my heart. Now…he's a master of chaos." She shakes her head, and I can see a single tear going down his cheek.

"Mom says he lived next door to you guys?" I ask.

"Yes, yes, he did," she confirms.

"Does anyone still live there?"

She shakes her head. "Not since…the incident." I guess that's what they call it.

"Could I…take a look?" I ask hopefully.

"No," Grammy almost yells. "I won't lose you the way I almost lost your mother."

"I said I was sorry," I hear my mom's voice break.

"Sorry doesn't cut it," Grammy says, shaking her head vigorously. "Do you have _any idea_ what went through my head all this time? I thought I lost my _only_ _daughter_!"

"If you were a pregnant teenager with a child whose father was a murdering psychopath, what would _you_ have done?" my mom thunders back. "What would _you _have done, Mom?"

"Enough," she stops my mom before she can yell at her more. "I'm just…I'm just so happy to see you." She sobs before hugging us both. "And I can't _wait _to get to know you better, Hanna."

"You too," I smile. "Grammy."

"I better get going," Mom says, checking her watch. "Remember everything I told you, okay? I'm only a phone call away, you know that."

"I know. I love you," I give her one last hug before she leaves.

"Take care," she says, "and good luck."

* * *

Thoughts?


	3. Meeting the Joker

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot!

* * *

"Jack wasn't always a psychopath, you know," Grammy tells me as she puts some fried chicken and mashed potatoes on a plate for me. "He loved your mother very much. I could see it in his eyes. And hers, too."

"How did he become…the Joker?" I ask, a little scared to know.

"He had a lot of family issues," she answers. "Your mom doesn't know the half of it. The stories he told me were horrifying, to say the least. His father was a sick man, beating his drunk wife up every day, threatening to kill him several times, too, when Jack would stand up for her. He could only take so much, I guess. I thought he was handling his situation well when we'd talk, but I suppose not. I should've seen it coming. I practically raised him."

"Do you think there's hope for him?" I ask.

"He…hasn't felt love in a long time," she says gravely. "Your mother was his first and only love, his best friend. Once he lost her, too, that was the last straw. Had he known your mother was pregnant, I think it would've helped, even if your mom didn't seem to think so. Especially since you look so much like her."

I smile.

"But I'm sure there's still a little bit of Jack left in him," Grammy continues. "He's been up to all sorts of shenanigans around town – blowing up hospitals, robbing banks, killin' the mayor, you name it – but not once has he touched this house. Or his old one."

"How do you find him?"

"Oh, he's everywhere," she tells me. "Nobody knows how he does it, but he usually comes to you. And at night, too."

"Mom told me not to go out at night," I say.

"She's right," she agrees. "All the criminals come out at night. Sleepin' durin' the day, partyin' at night."

"Do you think he'd hurt me?"

"He's been known to have zero empathy for his…hostages," Grammy says thoughtfully. "There's a good chance he might. But if you're willing to take that risk, know that I'm behind you one hundred percent."

"What do you think he'd do next?" I ask.

"There's no knowing what he's going to do next," she replies. "That's why the police have such a hard time finding him. The way he manages to escape every time is just remarkable. But you should get some rest for now. Worry about finding the Joker tomorrow. Your mother's old room is right around the corner. That room's yours as long as you're here."

I nod. "Good night, Grammy."

The next morning, I pull out a black blazer, some dark skinny jeans, nude-colored pumps and a peach-colored tank top with ruffles, as well as a golden necklace and matching bracelet. I decide to straighten my hair and pull it back slightly with a headband before reaching for my trusty make-up. I decide to go mostly natural today, save for some light pink eye shadow, black mascara, and pink lip-gloss and blush.

"You look lovely, sweetie," my grandma compliments my outfit as she finishes cooking some pancakes. "Would you like some pancakes before you head out?"

"That'd be great," I smile as she puts a plate with three pancakes topped with fruits and whipped cream, garnished with chocolate syrup. "These smell delicious, Grammy. Thank you so much!"

"They were your mom's favorite," she smiles. "I remember how upset she'd be that she couldn't make them quite the same way I did, even if she did everything I told her. Hers are quite yummy, as well, but she doesn't realize it." She looks down at my shoes. "Are you sure you'll be okay walking around in those?"

"Oh yeah, I got used to them about a year ago," I assure her.

"Personally I'd recommend flats," she says. "Just in case you run into trouble. I wouldn't want you to fall and break your ankle while running."

Whoops, never thought about that. "You're right. I'll change to flats." I finish the last of the pancakes before switching my pumps for my silver sparkly TOMS shoes. They're the closest things to sneakers I have. I grab my phone, wallet, lip-gloss, and hand lotion and slip them into my least conspicuous black shoulder bag (Spencer will be so happy that I'm expanding my vocabulary). I usually prefer handbags, but if this place is as sketch as my mom says, I don't really want to lose it.

As I walk around town exploring all the cute little boutiques (my mom wasn't kidding), I hear word about the Joker planning to rob a bank in exactly fifteen minutes. I just laugh to myself; he can't be _that _stupid…can he? Then again, he did blow up that hospital in broad daylight, so I guess he could just as well blow up a bank. How convenient. Right when I need to get money he's about to blow up the only place I can withdraw money from. Have they not heard of ATM's around here?

I catch the next bus toward the bank, and luckily enough there's no line.

"Hi there, how can I help you?" a perky redhead who looked about my age motioned for me to go to her.

"Hi, I'd just like to withdraw some money," I say.

"Name, please?"

"Um, I'm probably not in your system," I say, biting my lip. "You guys don't have my bank around here, do you?"

"Our bank is the only available bank here, but we can make a withdrawal from whatever yours, but we'll charge you an extra $2.50 fee. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, whatever," I wave my hand. I just need money; I don't give a fuck about fees right now.

"How much, miss…?"

"Hanna," I finish. "$40 should be good." I hand her my card and she completes the transaction within two minutes, handing me two twenties.

"Have a good day," she smiles at me for a split second before screaming, "DUCK!"

A huge-ass school bus bursts through the entrance right before my eyes, and a bunch of guys wearing creepy clown masks pop out of absolutely nowhere, rifles in hand. Luckily I wasn't in their line of sight. How the hell can I avoid a school bus crashing into a building but not Mona hitting me with a car?

I look around frantically, looking for a place to hide. There basically is none. Who the hell designed this place? They should've made it more ready for something like this! I subtly take out my brand-new pink pepper spray and stuff it in my pocket. My mom gave it to me a long time ago, but I never thought I'd actually have to use it.

While everyone's busy running about, I slip into the opening and wrap myself in a ball underneath one of the tables, waiting for them to leave. It doesn't seem like they're interested in hurting anyone as much as they are in stealing a shit ton of money. But that changes once people start opening fire; now there's blood everywhere.

I don't see what happens next, but I hear a demented voice from about fifteen feet away from me.

"I believe what doesn't kill you, simply makes you," he pulls off his mask, revealing himself as The Joker, "_stranger_."

I gasp in horror as he sticks some bomb like thing in the poor guy's mouth. At this point, I can't just sit here and let him blow up like that. Not after everyone else has gotten hurt! I slowly get up from my hiding spot, one hand on my pepper spray ready for anything.

"Hey!" I yell, in the Joker's direction, hoping to distract him. "What the _hell _do you think you're doing?"

He turns to face me, and I am now face-to-face with the clown prince of crime himself. "Well, well, _well_…what have we _here_?" He licks my lips as he drops the switch that would've set off the grenade thing in that guy's mouth, and it's just enough time for him to get it out of his mouth and throw it in the opposite direction. Sure, it blows up the front quarter of the bank, but at least he's okay, right?

"You got what you wanted," I say as fiercely as I could, standing my ground, ready to attack him if he did anything. "Now get out of here before you hurt anyone more innocent people!"

Other people use this opportunity to run out of the building as quickly as possible, calling 911.

He doesn't respond to me, but instead walks toward me, hunched over slightly. I stand up straighter, putting on my best poker face to show that I'm not afraid of him. I can't be afraid of this man; this man is my father, and if I'm going to get to know him, I can't be afraid.

Once he reaches me, he stops a few inches from me, studying me for a few moments. "Hell_o_, beautiful," he suddenly says, drawing out the l in beautiful. He grabs me by my neck and suddenly slams me against the wall, pinning me by neck and hair. With his free hand, he takes out a knife and grazes it across my face. "Wanna know how I got these _scar__**s**_?"

_Remember Hanna, this man is your father, _I tell myself. I examine his scars that popped out against his unevenly spread red…paint, if you could call it that…on his mouth area. "Not really," I breathe as his grip gets tighter around my neck and the blade makes its way inside my mouth. "But thanks for asking," I add sarcastically as I struggle to break free, but he moves my neck so it's now in the crease of his elbow, still gripping tightly. Wow, he's strong.

"You're a _sassy_ one, aren't ya?" he continues licking his lips, and I can see his teeth are yellow. Ew, he hasn't brushed his teeth in at least a week! "I _like _it! Well I'm gonna tell you anyway. You see…"

Right as he's about to tell his story, a bunch of cops come in, guns raised and looking for him.

"Looks like you're coming with _me_," he puts away his knife and throws me over his shoulder, and cackling. He runs over to the school bus that he so gracefully crashed into the bank.

"I really don't want to hear your stupid story about your stupid scars," I tell him, smacking him with my bag. "Put me down _right _now, or else…"

That doesn't really do me any good though, and he throws me so hard into the back of the bus, that I feel myself blacking out in five…four…three…


	4. Why So Serious?

Same disclaimer as always!

* * *

I wake up to find myself tied to a post by my ankles and wrists, sitting on a super dusty floor with a strip of duct tape across my mouth. Where the _fuck_ am I? And how long have I been out? I look around me to find myself in an old, dusty abandoned warehouse with no windows; the only light came from gaps in the roof up above. Nobody else was in the room with me, but I was surrounded by plenty of boxes I'm sure are filled with grenades or something. Not to mention it's so hot in here, and I can't even take off my blazer or have some water. Awesome.

I twist my wrists around in the thick ropes, hoping they didn't tie them too tight, but they're tied tighter than my skin! And I bet my legs are turning purple now, with how tight my ankles are tied together. I remember Spencer telling me something about having my blood circulation cut off if something was gripping my skin too tight. I had no idea what she was talking about then, but I really hope that's not what's happening right now.

"Hello, my _pet_," I hear a giggle from across the room as the Joker walks in, revealing those ugly yellow teeth of his. "Ready to play?"

I struggle against my bonds, but it's no use. These ropes I can deal with, but I just want this tape off my mouth.

It's like he read my mind, and he rips it off in one swift motion.

"Ow!" I cry, glaring at him. "You could've done that a little slower!"

"It's less _painful_ when it's quick, you know." He licks his lips. "So…where did we leave off?" he asks me, taking out that stupid knife of his again. He comes up closer to me, placing one gloved hand on the crook of my neck as he traces my face with his knife in the other. My breathing slows as my blue eyes follow his knife until they land on my mouth again, just like last time. "Ah, yes…these _scar__**s**_...want to know how I got them?" he smirks, jabbing his knife into my mouth.

"What's with the knife? You'll cut off my tongue at this rate, and I won't answer your question! Sheesh." I complain. That thing is so gross! I wonder how many other people's mouths that thing has been in.

"Answe**r**my questio**n,**" he grips the back of my head.

"What part of 'no' do you not understand?" I yell at him.

That was probably a bad idea. He slams my head roughly against the post and puts the knife back deeper in my mouth, ready to slice. So _this_ is how he felt when his dad gave him those scars.

"My father…" he began, "was…a very **bad** man. Very, very **bad**. One day I came home to him _crazier _and _drunker_ than usual…beating my dear mother-_ah_, to **death. **I begged…on my knees…for him to **stop**." He pops his lips on the p. "But-_ah_, he **doesn't**_**.**_So he turns to me, _kicks _me till I can't stand! I _whimper _on the ground, _begging_ him for **mercy**. He _gives_ me another kick," on the word "kick" he hits my head kinda hard against the wooden post, "and says, 'Why so _**serious**__-__**ah**_?' He kicks me. 'Why so _**serious**_**-**_**ah**_?' And _in _goes the kitchen knife. 'Let's put a _smile _on that **face**'-ah!" He stretches my mouth to one side with his knife until a slight trickle of blood drips onto my blazer. I'm really glad I chose to wear my black one instead of my other one.

There goes my breaking point; I can't take it anymore. The way he said it was so…raw…like he was actually re-living the moment. I close my eyes, and let my tears fall, bracing myself for the pain. But instead, he gently removes the knife from my mouth. "I'm sorry, Jack," I simply answer, looking right at him.

His face changes almost immediately. While he told his story, I saw a killer, ready to murder me and kill me really, _really _slowly. But now...now all I see is anger and confusion.

"_What _did you call me?" he hissed, grabbing my face, his thumb and middle fingers pinching into my jaw.

"Jack," I repeat.

"And _where_ did a pretty girl like yourself hear that name? Hm?" His voice becomes slightly less threatening, and I could sense a little fear in him.

"Ashley," I say my mother's name, a little louder this time.

"Ashley," he seethes through his teeth, "is _dead_. WHERE DID YOU HEAR THAT NAME?" He yells at me in his deranged, psychopathic voice.

"She's _not dead_!" I yell back.

"And-_ah_, you know this because…?" he asks in a dangerous voice.

"Because I'm her _daughter_."

"She doesn't have a daughter," he snarled, his eyes ready to kill me. "Don't _lie_ to me, or I'll _rip _your **face **to shreds-_ah_!" He let out a short giggle.

I steady my breathing and suppress any wild emotions running through me. Now's my chance. It's do or die, but I'm willing to risk it. "She ran away before she could tell you," I croak.

A small hint of hurt crossed his eyes for a split second, but he maintained his mask, holding the blade of his knife at the slit of my throat. He doesn't seem to have anything to say, so I continue.

"She watched you kill him, you know. And she was afraid you'd kill her – and my fetus at the time – if she told you."

I see his face soften slightly, but not by much. He takes a closer look at me, knife in hand, and tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. He continues examining my hair and my face before settling on my eyes and giving them a long, hard stare. Without saying a word, he cuts the ropes that bound my wrists and ankles and yanks me off the floor. I start to follow him, before…

"Don't even _think _about it," he growls, back in Joker mode, "You're still _mine_-ah here."

"Can I at least have my purse back?" I ask hopefully.

"No!" he growls again.

"Can't I at least tell my grandma I'm okay?" I protest. "She probably thinks I ran off the way my mom did!"

He slams the door shut in response, and I could hear a chain and a lock. I bang my fist against the door. I walk around freely for the first time in what feels like days. I don't mind staying here if it means I can spend time with him, but I'd like to call Grammy to let her know I haven't run off the way my mom did. I'd also like to clean this place up, and get him to put those boxes somewhere else. The rest of my suitcases would be nice, too, but fat chance I'm going to be able to get them from Grammy's.

With that said, I could've sworn I saw a little bit of my father in there just now, even if it was just for a second. That's good enough for me. Whether or not he can fully go back to how he was, I don't know, but I have to try.

* * *

Hanna always seems to try to see the good in people (with the exception of Jenna), so I thought this would be a good challenge for her, and it'll be the driving force of the story. Hope you liked it! I'll have up more soon while it's the weekend. I'm taking a summer class, so I'll be busy during the week!


	5. Girl Bonding

Disclaimer: I own nothing except any original characters!

* * *

I've lost track of how much time has passed since I've been kidnapped, if you could call it that. I went willingly (somewhat), so I'm not sure that'd count as kidnapping. The Joker's henchmen bring me food in rounds, but it's the same thing every time: stale cheese leftover pizza. If and when I ever leave this place, I swear, I'm _never _eating pizza again!

I'm really surprised I'm not seriously hurt right now; from all the horror stories I've heard about him, I expected him to have killed me by now. But it's been, what, a _week_? He hasn't spoken to me since I broke the news to him. I figure it's either because he wants nothing to do with me, or he just doesn't know how to handle it.

"_Morning_, Hanna-kins." The Joker bursts into my room in the warehouse, in fresh make-up and a clean purple suit, accompanied by a woman with dark hair and tan skin a few years older than me.

"What's with the tacky nickname?" I make a face at him.

"Don't, uh, _push_ me," he warns me. "I have a meeting to go to, and she's here to make sure you, uh, _behave_."

"Haven't I behaved enough for you?" I cross my arms. "Anyone else would've tried to escape by now. I haven't."

"She has a point, boss," the woman agrees with me. "Haven't heard a peep from her since you brought her back on that damn school bus."

"_Don't_-ah let her out of your sight," he points his signature knife at the woman. "Or there _will_ be…**consequences**."

He leaves us with a gleeful, twisted smile.

"How long have I been here?" I ask the woman curiously.

"Just under two weeks," she answers. "You're very lucky to be alive, you know."

"I know, right?"

"It's really strange of him, actually," she continues. "His women hostages are usually the first ones killed. He must like you, or something."

_Or maybe a part of him _does _care, _I want to tell her, but I don't feel like I should, so I just shrug.

"Could I possibly have my purse back?" I ask her.

"Sorry, hon. Boss will kill me if I give it to you," she answers brusquely. "That was his only other request besides not letting you out of my sight. What do you need, exactly?"

"I just need to call my grandma," I explain. "I want to let her know I'm okay. You can even stand here to make sure I'm not calling the cops on you guys."

She smirks. "If you were going to call the cops, I'm sure you would've done that a long time ago. Here," she hands me her black iPhone 4S. "You can borrow mine. I won't tell him."

"Promise?" She seems trustworthy, but I just met her, so I'm still cautious.

"Pinky swear." She holds up a tan pinky.

I giggle as I grasp her pinky with mine.

I dial Grammy's house, hoping she's home.

"Hello?" I hear her warm voice on the other line.

"Grammy, it's Hanna."

"Oh, thank goodness!" I hear her sigh in relief. "You gave me a heart attack these past two weeks, do you know that?"

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay."

"I'm glad to hear that," I can sense she's smiling. "Your mother's been trying to reach you."

"She has? My phone's been dead for awhile." Hey, it's true.

"Don't worry, dear, I'll let her know you're alive and well," she chuckles. She lowers your voice. "Are you with Jack?"

The woman gives me a warning look, like she can tell I'm about to reveal something to blow their cover.

"I can't tell you," I say vaguely, hoping she gets the message.

"I'll take that as a yes," she gets what I'm trying to tell her. "Has he hurt you?"

"No," I shake my head. "I'm fine, I promise. I just wanted to let you know I'm okay."

"Will you be able to call again?" Grammy asks.

"Hopefully," I say. "I'll try."

"Okay. Take care, dear. I love you."

"Love you, too." I hang up and hand the woman back her phone.

"You weren't about to tell her, were you?" she gives me a questioning glance.

"No," I tell her honestly. "I figure the Joker would kill me if I gave myself away. I just wanted to let my grandma know I'm okay, that's all."

"Fair enough," she nods. "We've never been formally introduced, have we?"

I shake my head. "I don't think so."

She holds out her hand. "Alex. Boss calls me Lex, but I hate it. Don't _ever _call me that, understand?"

"For sure. That's one awful nickname," I snicker. "I'm Hanna."

"You're not from around here, are you, Hanna?"

"Is it that obvious?" I ask.

"Kind of," she says. "You dress _way_ better than most of the people around here. That's how I was able to tell."

"Really? I never noticed," I answer. "Where I'm from, lots of people dress like this."

"Where are you from again?"

"Rosewood. It's about two hours from here."

"I've heard of that place," she says. "Didn't some cyber-stalker recently get thrown into a crazy house there?"

That hits a nerve. "I didn't realize you guys got our newspaper out here," I say, trying not to remember that night.

"We don't," Alex says, "but it made headlines, so one of our reporters wrote about it. Pretty mild compared to what the boss has done, if you ask me."

"That cyber-stalker," I begin losing my temper, "was one of my best friends. She has tortured me and my four other friends for the past _year_. You have _no _idea what I've been through!"

"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "I didn't know."

"I'm surprised you didn't recognize me," I say. "Tons of photographers took pictures of us that night."

"Nobody from Gotham got one," she says.

"I see," I nod. "You're right, though. The Joker makes Mona look pretty tame." I laugh a little.

"Mona?" she's confused.

"The cyber-stalker," I clarify for her.

"Oh. Right," she nods. She looks at my clothes. "How long have you been wearing those clothes?"

"Since the Joker locked me in here," I shrug.

"Alright, that's it," she opens the door.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"To get the rest of your stuff," Alex smiles.

"Won't he get mad?" I ask.

"He said not to let you out of my sight," she says. "So I can go with you to get the rest of your stuff. Technically I'm not breaking any rules because you're still in my sight."

"Good point," I say. "But what if he catches us?"

"_Yes_," a voice drawls behind us. "What if he _catches _you?"

Lexi and I turn to see the Joker standing before us.

"**Where** do you think you're taking her, _Lex_?"

"She needs more clothes, Boss," Alex goes back into business mode. "I was going to go with her to get her suitcases and bring her back here."

"I _told_ you to make sure she doesn't es_cape_," the Joker pops his lips on the p.

"You told me not to let her out of my sight," she argues. "I'm going with her, therefore I'm still following orders, Boss."

"_Please_?" I give him my cute smile that always works on Caleb and my mom.

He sighs. "_Girls._" He tosses Alex a pair of car keys and storms off.

"How do you do that?" Alex looks at me in disbelief.

"Do what?"

"He _never _gives me what I want!" she complains. "But you…you just have to _smile_ at him and he gives it to you. Are you sleeping with him, or something?"

"Ew! Alex!" I shudder at the thought of sleeping with my own father. "Besides, how would I be able to do that? I'm practically confined to that dusty old storage room filled with boxes of explosives."

"True," she says. "So are we going, or what?"

"Oh. Right," I laugh.

"I know we haven't known each other that long, but I must say, it's kinda nice having another woman around," Alex smiles as we get into an old Corolla at the back of the warehouse.

"You're really sweet," I answer genuinely. "Thanks for letting me borrow your phone."

"No worries," she shrugs. "He trusts me."

"How did you end up…?"

"Being one of his henchmen?" she laughs. "I guess you could say he rescued me. My parents got shot by a gangster when I was fifteen because they refused to give him their money. I was homeless for a good week or so before the Joker took me in."

"Took you in?" I ask.

"Yeah," she shrugs as she stops at a stop sign. "I just didn't want to be out on the streets anymore, so I jumped at first the opportunity for shelter. It just so happened to be him."

"I see. Oh, turn right over here," I direct her toward my grandma's house, which thankfully isn't too far from the warehouse.

"Have you killed anyone?" I ask.

"I try not to," she says. "I really hate it."

"Then why do you do it?" I ask.

"To stay out of the streets." I can tell this is a touchy subject for her, so I stop asking her questions. We arrive at Grammy's in about five minutes, and she pulls next to the sidewalk of my grandma's townhouse and accompanies me to the front door.

"You're back," Grammy greets me a hug. "And you brought a friend!" She gives Alex a hug, too.

"Grammy, Alex," I introduced. "Alex, Grammy."

"It's nice to meet you," Alex returns her hug. "We came to get her things," she gestures to me.

"I see," Grammy nods. "When do you expect to be back?"

I look at Alex. "She'll call," Alex assures her, winking at me as I haul my Louis Vuitton suitcases and my cosmetics backpack out of my mom's old room.

"Okay. Be safe, dears, it's getting dark," Grammy smiles at us. "And take care, Hanna."

"Love you," I give her a warm hug before leaving with Alex.

"Thank you so much for doing this," I thank her as she pulls out of her parking spot.

"Don't mention it."

"Did you mean it when you told my grandma I'd call?"

"Yeah," she just nods. "As long as the boss isn't around, you can call whoever you'd like. But no funny business."

"Well, yeah, obviously," I laugh a little.

"What are _those?"_ The Joker is waiting for us when we get back. He eyes my suitcases suspiciously.

"My clothes," I reply. "What, you don't carry your clothes in suitcases when you travel?"

"Don't _test_ me, my little Hanna-kins. Back to your place. _Now_," he gives us a threatening stare.

"'My little Hanna-kins'? What the hell?" Alex looks at me.

"I guess that's his awful nickname for me," I shrug. Hey, it _is _awful. That's the kind of nickname you give to a pet!

We laugh.

* * *

Sorry, not too much Hanna-Joker interaction here. This was more of an insight into Hanna's experiences living with the Joker, and her new friend that makes her stay more bearable. Don't worry, I'll have more of the Joker in the next few chapters. Hope you're enjoying it!


	6. Good Behavior is Rewarded

As I promised, more Joker in this chapter! He's got more than a few surprises to him, that's all I'll tell you. Enjoy! I own nothing except any original characters not in The Dark Knight or Pretty Little Liars!

* * *

I change into my pink pinstripe Victoria's Secret PJ set and slip on my trusty beige UGGs. I'm really not looking forward to sleeping in the floor in these. I zip up my suitcases and line them up vertically, making a makeshift bed. It's pathetic, really, using my suitcases as my bed. But I'm a little scared to ask the Joker for a better place to sleep. He might whip out that stupid, disease-infested knife again.

It really sucks not having a phone on me; never knowing what day it is or what time it is. I just judge it by the sunset. It's nice watching it from the only window in this room. Judging from how black the night sky is, it's probably almost midnight or something. Around this time, the Joker is usually getting ready for his usual night "duties." I've secretly been eavesdropping on all his meetings; it was pretty smart of him to keep me locked up right above his meeting room. NOT!

I sit on my suitcases and curl up into a ball, looking out into the distance. I'll admit, the Gotham skyline is a pretty nice view.

"Enjoying the view?"

I jump at the sound of the Joker's voice from about five feet behind me. His voice has its usual drawl to it, but it's a little less cartoonish this time.

"I didn't hear you come in," I look up at him, before looking back out the opening. "But…yeah. It's nice."

"You were a lot less shy when I first met you," he leans against the wall slightly in front of me, still fully suited up. His make-up is still relatively okay, but it doesn't look any less ridiculous. "What _happened_?"

I shrug. "I had something to say then. I don't have anything right now."

"You disrupted-ah, my _plan_," he licks his lips. I sense that he's still in Joker mode. Not that he ever isn't, but still.

"You were about to let that innocent guy blow up, and I would've escaped without a scratch," I look him in the eyes. "Do you have _any_ idea how horrible I would've felt if I just sat there and let him die?"

"No," he answers, running a gloved hand through his messy, greasy blond-green hair.

"Why'd you come in here?" I ask.

"To _talk_ to you, of course," he lowers his head and gives me a knowing, slightly creepy stare.

"Why do you do this?" I ask.

"Do _what_?"

"You know, blow up hospitals, rob banks, kill random people for fun…do I have to name it all?"

"It shakes things **up**, you know? People are always on their toes. They don't know what to expec**t**." He says the t in expect like an extra syllable.

"They're innocent people," I argue. "Why can't you just mind your own business like everyone else, instead of ruining people's lives and blowing up whatever the fuck is in your path?"

"But that's no _fun_! See, this is why everyone _freaks out_, ah, after one of my little episodes. It isn't part of their, uh, _plan_. Everyone has a…schedule, you see, they're going to be at one place at this time, another place next. But when you blow something _up_, it throws you off and your life gets, uh, _crazy_."

He's smiling by now.

"You have a sick, twisted mind," I shake my head. "I'm actually surprised you haven't killed me yet."

His eyes grow dark all of a sudden. "I _wanted_ to, ya know. But, ah, I _couldn't_."

He sits next to me. "So, uh, what do you think of Alex?"

"She's nice," I answer honestly.

"Did she hurt you?"

"No, she was really sweet," I say. "Don't call her Lex though, she hates it."

"I know," I can see a smirk forming on his face. When he does that, it makes him look ten times scarier with all his scars. "It's just _fun_ seeing her get all _angry_." He lets out a cross between a giggle and a cackle.

"Oh."

"So, um, what's your plan for tonight?" I ask him carefully.

"My _plan_?" he raises his eyebrows. "I don't _have_ a plan. Where's the fun in **that**? Hm? But, ah, now that you _mention _it, maybe I'll, uh, set off one of these boxes here and blow up the building!" A smile slowly creeps on his face.

My eyes widen, looking around frantically. Is he being serious?

He lets out a loud cackle and claps his gloved hands a few times. "Gotcha!"

"Oh my God," I bury my face in my hands. "That wasn't funny."

"Toughen up, kid," he reaches over and ruffles my blond hair.

I look up at him. I swear I could've caught a little glimpse of my dad again. His mind is clearly twisted and he's not all there half the time, but in his eyes, I could see the man that my mom grew up with and loved.

"I, uh, have a little _surprise _for you-ah. Take your things with you." He gets up and yanks me up after him by my forearm.

I follow him down the stairs and out the door, into a smaller adjacent run-down office building with a hallway and what used to be different offices. He opens the second door on the left.

Inside, there's a dark purple fluffy couch with a single, dark green fluffy pillow on it and desk and rolling chair to the right of it. Up above I see cabinets that were probably used for files and whatnot. There's a single window right above the couch. Considering this is an old building, this office-turned-bedroom is in pretty good shape.

"So…I get to stay _here_ now?" I ask.

"Yeah…" he nods, leaning on the doorway.

I heave my suitcases onto my desk and lay them neatly next to each other; they're big enough to occupy the entire desk!

"And, ah, I believe this is yours," he brings out my black shoulder bag from behind his back and places it in my hands.

"Oh my God!" I exclaim, holding it in the air and spinning around in glee before I fall onto the couch. "Are you really giving this back to me?"

"M_hmm_," he says, smiling without showing his teeth. But it's not a creepy smile; this time it's genuine. "You can thank Lex," he adds dismissively. "Her idea. She told me you've been _behaving_. And you needed a better place to, ah, _stay_."

"Thanks," I smile shyly at him and kick off my UGGs before lying down on the couch.

I never would've expected what he does next. He takes off his purple trench coat, places it over my body like a blanket. It's exactly my length, and surprisingly really warm, too. "It gets cold at night," he says gruffly before stepping out. And right before he closes the door, I could've sworn I saw a small smile on his face.

* * *

So what do you all think? I hope I kept him enough in character, but I wanted to show his (slightly) gentler side. He's not a very empathic person, so his ways of showing affection are obviously a little different. But then again, from how he acted here and the little things he's done so far (I don't have to list them), Hanna's different to him, so we'll see.


	7. Reunion?

Same disclaimers as always!

* * *

I check my phone when I first wake up and see that it's exactly 1 pm. I must've slept for twelve hours! But that doesn't surprise me, since I've been sleeping on a dusty warehouse floor until last night. I also have like 10 missed calls from my mom (surprise, surprise). Sheesh, didn't Grammy tell her I was okay? But because I feel bad for making her worry, I decide to call her.

"Hanna?" I hear my mom's voice for the first time in what feels like _years_.

"Mom, hi," I breathe.

"Do you have _any _idea how worried **sick **I've been?" she yells.

"I'm sorry," I apologize as nicely as I can. "My phone's been dead. And I've been…compromised."

"So I've heard," she says, still angry with me. "My mother called and gave me the news. Has he hurt you at all?"

"I'm alive," I shrug.

"But has he hurt you?" she persists.

"Not really," I shake my head.

"Hanna, tell me the _truth_. Remember our agreement. No more secrets."

"Okay, so he might've banged my head against the wall a few times when we first met and held a knife to my throat and mouth, but I'm fine, I promise," I roll my eyes.

"He did _what_!" she screeches.

"Uh, Mom? Shouldn't you be happy I'm alive?" I ask her, confused. "You do realize he could've killed me a _long time ago_!"

"Are you _defending _him?" she asks in disbelief.

"No!" I argue. "I'm just telling it how it is! Stop jumping to conclusions."

"I'm not jumping to conclusions," she begins, when I hear three quick knocks on my door.

"Knock, _knock_," I hear the Joker's voice right outside the door.

"I'm busy!" I yell at the door, but he comes in anyway, full clown make-up and everything, minus his purple coat, which was still sitting on my lap. Just like him.

"Who's _that_?" he raises what should be his eyebrows at me and points to my phone as he takes his purple coat from my lap and completes his look.

I place my hand over the microphone and mouth to him, "My _mother_."

"Hanna, who are you talking to? Is that him?" my mom asks, suddenly anxious.

"Yeah…"

"Oh my god," I hear her breathe. "Put him on FaceTime. NOW!"

"She wants to talk to you," I whisper with a grin.

The look on the Joker's face is _priceless_. "_Me_?" he points to himself wordlessly.

I nod.

"Hanna…" my mom begins threateningly.

"Yes, Mom," I say quickly and press the FaceTime button on my iPhone and stand up next to the Joker.

"Jack," she jumps a little in shock at the sight of him. It must be so weird for her, seeing someone for the first time in seventeen years.

"It's been _awhile_, Ash," he holds up my phone in front of his face.

"Yes. Yes, it has," she says. I can see that she's still trying to process his transformation.

Awkward silence as I look from my da- I mean, the _Joker _to my mother on the screen.

"So she's been with _you_ this whole time?" my mom finally speaks again.

"That's right," he nods.

"You haven't hurt her, have you?" she asks in an accusing tone.

"Why are you asking _me_? Why don't you ask _her_?" he looks to me.

"Hanna," she looks at me warningly.

I look from him to her once again and say, "He's actually taken pretty good care of me, Mom."

"Really?" I can tell she doesn't believe me.

"Mhmm," I nod.

"Why, uh, didn't you _tell _me you…had a, uh, _bun_ in the oven?" the Joker asks her, raising his eyebrows.

I snicker a bit. The way he just said that…oh my God, did the Joker seriously _just _refer to me as a bun in my mom's oven?

"Jack," my mom says, trying not to cry. "You have no idea how much I wanted to tell you, but after watching you kill your own _father…_"

"Don't you **dare **bring up, uh, that _night_," he suddenly growls through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry, but that's the truth," she says. I don't know how she's staying so strong; I can tell that night was a tough night for both of them. "After witnessing all that…I was scared for my _life_, Jack. I honestly thought you would do the same thing to me."

"Ashley…" Is it just me, or is the Joker about to _cry_? I _knew _he had some pent up emotion deep down there somewhere! "I…"

"You _what_?" She's half-angry, half-hurt now.

"_You _were the one that _ran_!" he snarls, but I could sense some hurt underneath that anger.

"Jack," my mom's crying by now. "I just wanted to protect her. I wanted to protect my daughter."

"You mean _our _daughter?" he gives her a dangerous look.

"Don't you _dare _call her yours!" she screams.

"She wouldn't **be** here…if it weren't for me!" he yells back. "_We _**made **her. And _then_, you left _me_. Did you _forget _that?" He enunciates those last three words.

"I haven't forgotten a _thing_," she says, tears in her eyes. "But you have _no_ right to call her yours. I went through nine months of _hell _to give birth to her, gave up my whole _life _to raise her! And what did _you_ do? You killed your own father, and turned into a _bloodthirsty, psychopathic _**murderer**!" She starts crying again. "How do you think that made _me_ feel?"

"Shut up!" he yelled at her.

"How do you think that made me feel, Jack? Watching my best friend, the one who's _always _been there disappear right in front of you?"

"Ashley, _shut the _**fuck up**!" he roars.

I can feel my heart breaking inside, listening to them release all those feelings they've been pushing aside for the past seventeen years.

"I have to go," she says. "I love you Hanna, call me again soon."

"Love you, too," I nod, not able to believe what just happened as he places my iPhone into the palm of my hand.

"Uh, Boss?" Alex is standing in the doorway, confused.

"Get out!" he yells, giving her an evil stare. "Both of you!"

* * *

Looks like things are about to get interesting! Any ideas what happens next?


	8. Not Invited to the Party

Same disclaimers as always!

* * *

"What the HELL was that about?" Alex shoves me against the wall outside, holding me by the collar of my pink PJ's. Ugh, this is _so _embarrassing. It's mid-afternoon and I'm still in my PJ's?

"Whoa!" I put my hands up. "Is that really necessary?"

"I knew it," she snarled. "I _knew _there was something going on between you two! You are sucha _liar_!" She lets go of me and storms off.

"Alex, wait!" I run after her. "Please."

"Save it, Blondie," she says harshly.

I grab her arm as roughly as I could. "Can't I at least explain?"

"You have _nothing _to explain," she turns around and crosses her arms.

"I have _everything _to explain if you'd just _listen_!" I scream, though I think it came out more like a screech.

"Fine," she says, "but enough with your dramatics, girl. Seriously."

"Look," I begin, more calmly this time. "It's not what you think at all. But you have to promise me you'll keep it a secret."

"Keep what a secret?" she narrows her brown eyes at me suspiciously.

I take a deep breath and lean closer to her. "He's my dad," I say quietly.

Her mouth drops open, forming a perfect O. "Get out."

"I'm completely serious!" I giggle slightly.

"You," she looks me up and down, "are the _Boss's _daughter?"

"That's _right_!" I answer in a sing-songy voice that Mona (in her good days) would've been proud of.

Alex blinks her eyes a few times, processing what I just told her. "I guess that explains it, then."

"Explains what?" I ask curiously.

"Why he's been so…nice lately."

"Nice?" I raise my eyebrows.

"You didn't really see it much because you were locked up in that room half the time, but he was…different…from his usual 'let's-blow-up-the-whole-fucking-city-and-watch-it-burn' self. And it explains why he didn't kill you after he kidnapped you."

"Oh." Yeah, I guess the Joker's treating me better than I thought he would, but I still wouldn't call him _nice_.

"Why do you want to keep it a secret?" Alex asks me. "If you let everyone else know, they wouldn't dare touch you. Not that they have."

"There's just no knowing how he'd react to everyone finding out," I answer her. Wow, I sounded like my mom just now! "I don't want to take any chances with him."

"True," she agrees. She bites her lip. "Wow…I just can't believe it." She looks up at me. "You're lucky to have him, Hanna."

"Why?" I ask. Lucky to have a psychopathic biological father? I'd take Tom over him at this point.

She gives me the same look she gave me when she told me about her parents.

"Oh. Yeah," I remember. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"Don't worry about it," she waves her hand. "I'm sure it was just as hard for you, finding out your whole life was a lie and all."

"That's _exactly _how I feel!" Damn, she got it right on point without me telling her a thing! "Yeah, it definitely shakes things up when your mom says, 'Oh yeah, Tom isn't really your father.' My adoptive dad's name is Tom."

"Yeah, I got it," she nodded.

We're interrupted by the Joker (again), and his henchmen, who are wearing those cheap, cheesy clown masks over their heads, follow behind him closely.

"Going somewhere, boss?" Alex asks.

"Busy day ahead, ya know," he shrugs before letting out his usual cackle.

"Thanks for telling me," she glares at him.

"Oh, ah, I didn't _tell _you, didn't I?" he doesn't sound sorry at all for not telling her. "You're her, uh, _bodyguard _now. So why don't you two, uh, go _shopping _or something?"

For some reason, the way he said "shopping" sends chills up my spine.

"_Shopping_?" Alex raises her eyebrows. "Okay, there's _definitely _something you're not telling me."

"We have a little, uh, _party _tonight," he explains, a creepy smile forming on his face. But then again, when is it not? "But there's some, ah, _business _to take care of first."

"A party," she repeats, and I can tell she doesn't believe him.

"Yeah, Maroni's party," he explains. "Downtown at the…what do young people call it…_nightclub_."

"A nightclub?" I light up. "I'm _so _down! I've always wanted to go to one of those!"

Ten clown masks plus Alex and the Joker all turn to face me.

"Sweetie," she whispers. "It's not _that _kind of party."

"Oh," I cringe slightly. "My bad."

"You two are, uh, staying _here_," the Joker wags an index finger in our direction, although I can tell it's directed more at me.

"I've been on every single one of your, uh, 'missions'," she puts that word in air quotes, "boss. What's wrong with this one?" Alex crosses her arms.

"What's _wrong_ is that you're a bodyguard now," he answers, "and _she's_, uh, _underage_."

"Since when do you give a fuck about the law?"

"She's got a point, boss," one of the clowns butts in. "Are you sayin' that you can rob a bank in a bus but an underage girl can't walk into a club?"

"Let's make one thing clear," the Joker walks toward us and whips out that lovely ol' knife of his. "If I catch either one of you at that party tonight, I can…_assure_…you that I will not hesitate to put a _smile_ on those pretty little faces of yours," he traces our mouths with the tips of his knife, "_permanently_." He tosses Alex a thick white envelope before marching out with his clowns.

"Four hundred dollars," Alex says after counting. "What the hell do we do with all this?"

"Shop?" Did she really just ask that question?

"No, _really_," she rolls her eyes.

"And there are lots of other things we could do, too!" I get excited. "Get our nails done, go to the spa for a bit, get some coffee, you know!"

"No, I _don't _know," she says dully.

"Come _on_, it'll be fun!" I stamp my feet in excitement. "A girls' day. What do you say? _And_ it'll make watching me less painful for you."

"Believe me, I don't mind watching you at all. But…I don't know," she hesitates. "All that stuff isn't really my thing."

"Please?" I give her my famous face – the one that works on _everyone_. "You'd be surprised. You might like it more than you think! I'll even help you pick out a dress for tonight if you want."

"Hanna, you can't be serious…!"

"Dead serious!" I insisted. "When was the last time you had fun?"

"Before you came along?" I could see her thinking really hard. "Not since I was, what, twelve?"

"Okay, we're definitely going," I declare.

"Are you trying to get us killed?" she says incredulously. "Don't think he won't hurt you just 'cuz you're his kid."

"I say, fuck it, we're going."

"If that's the case, you'll need a fake," she looks at me seriously.

"Fake what?"

"ID, of course," she says with a smile. "Luckily for you, I've got a few myself."

She takes me to her bedroom, where she unlocks a drawer pulls out a stack of cards. "Choose one that looks the most like you," she says. "I've got all ages and races twenty-one years of age and up."

"How do you have all these?" I ask, flipping through the various fake ID's.

"Joker's victims," she shrugs. "I take their ID's afterward, if they're female. You never know when they might be useful."

I pull out one of a girl with short blonde hair and blue eyes. She had a different overall facial structure, but one of the perks of having blond hair and blue eyes is that lots of people have them, so any other little features will probably be overlooked. "Will this work?" I ask.

"If you're down for a haircut, sure. There's no way you're getting past the bouncers with that hair of yours, as much as I envy it. They may only look at your ID for a split second, but if it looks anything unlike the picture, you can be sure as hell they _will _scrutinize it."

"Sure, why not?" I shrug. "I need a change, anyway."

"That's the spirit," she gives me a light punch on the shoulder. "I'm no fashionista, but you're not goin' shopping in _that _are you?"

"Hell no!" I shake my head vigorously. "I don't even know what I'm still doing in these!"

I change into some black satin shorts and a cute blue sleeveless blouse, and my sparkly silver TOMS, which somehow still look nice after sleeping in that ugly room so many times.

"You have some nice clothes," she looks at me in awe.

I blush slightly. "I'm sure yours are nice, too."

"If you call skinny jeans and purple v-necks nice, then yeah, I guess I do," she laughs.

"Hey, they're not that bad!" I say as I look at how well her clothes fit her, considering how plain they are. The deep purple looks great against her tan and shows off her body in all the right places, and the charcoal gray complements it really well. It was actually decent for her style, except for her Converse sneakers that look like they could rip in half anytime now. "You could use some new shoes, though. I could rip the tops of them off right now if I wanted to."

"I know," she agrees. "I keep asking the boss to get me some new ones but he never does. Then again, shopping with his henchmen is never fun."

"Why not?" Shopping with a bunch of (hopefully cute) guys sounds kinda fun.

"They don't really do any shopping of their own," Alex rolls her eyes. "It's more like, they give me a list of everything they want and make me get it while they just grab beer at the bar."

"_Men_," I groaned.

"Tell me about it." She gives me a small smile. "You know, it really _is _nice having another woman around. You can only stand so much testosterone."

"And you're the best bodyguard _ever_," I smile back at her.

* * *

Sorry, not too much action in here! If you guys think the Joker is getting softer, don't worry, he isn't! He's still very much psycho. I don't want to go into too much detail because I might accidentally give something away. Hope you're enjoying it! Reviews, suggestions, and thoughts are appreciated!


	9. Shopping, Strippers, and Cuba Libre

Same disclaimers apply!

* * *

Five shopping bags apiece, a cupcake and coffee shop, a one-hour spa and facial session, and one dress shop later, we arrive back at the Joker's hideout. I have successfully cut my hair as short as the girl on the fake ID, and I look way different from before. Not to mention I bought two new pairs of jeans, a tribal print romper, some cute tops, a pink peplum top for tonight, and a pair of navy-colored TOMS shoes. Successful shopping spree? I think so. And I didn't steal any of it!

"How did you learn all this stuff?" Alex asks me as we sit in the middle of her room, unpacking our things. She also got a pair of TOMS shoes, but in black; she doesn't really like flashy things. Her personal style reminds me of Emily's but a step up, in a way. She's definitely more of a tomboy, but she likes to mix it up with girly things too, like cute necklaces and bracelets and stuff; she just doesn't have very many of them. It might not necessarily be my style, but she's got pretty good taste! It's a shame she can't go shopping as often as she'd like.

"Fashion?"

"Yeah."

"One of my best friends, Alison," I pause for a moment, "had some of the best clothes ever. A couple years ago, I never would've imagined being able to fit into any of them, but I took a few notes before she died."

"I see," she nods, impressed with me.

"And Mona…before she became a psychopath...she and I would go through Vogue and all those magazines and find stuff we really liked and try to create looks based on them," I continued. Of course, there's a lot more to it, but I don't really feel like spilling out my depressing life story to her, as much as she's becoming a really great friend.

"I wish I could have as good an eye for those things like you do," she sighs.

"Well, if you take good care of those, they should last you awhile," I assure her.

"You'll have to help me with all this though," she gestures to the make-up I helped pick out for her. She chuckles a bit. "This is kinda embarrassing. I'm twenty-two years old and I can't even put on my own make-up!" She laughs. "This color is great, though." She holds out her tan hands in front of her and admires her newly manicured hot pink nails. I got mine in neon blue.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," I place a hand on her shoulder. "If it makes you feel any better, you look great without it."

She grins. "Thanks, Hanna." Alex looks over at our outfits. "Let's try on our new outfits, yeah?"

They were nothing much, really. It was just a club, not a full-on formal affair, but a new dress wouldn't hurt, right? She chose a simple little black dress with a modest neckline to balance out how short it was and wore it with bright red wedges that I also helped her pick out, while I took out a navy blue tunic that's a little longer than my butt, which I wear with black liquid leggings and my nude pumps. Even after losing all my hefty-Hanna weight, I still have curves. Nicer ones, for sure, but they're still curves. There's no way in hell I can pull off a mini-dress like she can.

"You're right," Alex finally says after we stare at each other in our dresses for, like, five minutes. "Shopping _is _kind of fun."

"Told you," I giggled as she hands me her new make-up for me to help her put it on. "You have the best skin tone ever, you know. I wish I could tan like you do."

"Your color's not so bad," I can tell she's just trying not to make me feel bad.

"Please, I'm as pale as Edward Cullen," I roll my eyes. "Not to mention my skin turns into the color of a tomato when I burn."

"Yuck," she sticks out her tongue slightly as I apply some eyeliner over her top lids after highlighting her brown eyes with gold and chocolate brown eye shadow in a smoky-eye look.

"Your eyes are just like Mona's," I say quietly.

"Is that good or bad?" she asks.

"She has nice eyes," I shrug. "But we're not friends anymore. I think I already told you." I apply some rose-pink blush to the apples of her cheeks.

"You did," she nods. "That's really cold of her to do all that."

I nod as I do my make-up in a similar smoky eye style as I did Alex's, but with pink and gold instead of brown.

"Thanks for all this, by the way," she says. "I haven't had this much fun in a long time."

I smile. "I owe you for convincing the Joker to give me a better place to stay. This is my way of thanking you."

She gives me a weird look. "I did _what _now?"

"You didn't convince the Joker to take me out of that musty old room full of grenades and stuff?"

"Uh, no," she shook her head. "Girl, I'm glad you have a proper room and all, I really am, but sorry, it wasn't me who did that."

"Then who did?" It couldn't have been him…could it?

"I don't know," she shrugs. "But if you still want me to get you into that club, we better leave _pronto_."

We get off at a dark, run-down looking alley, and Alex grabs my wrist.

"Where are we?" I ask her anxiously.

"The back entrance," she says simply. "I'm pretty sure the boss will have people watching out for us at the front."

"But don't you think he'd expect us to try and sneak in from the back?" I point out. "We're more likely to get caught getting in through here." If there's anything I've learned from the Joker, always do the opposite of what's expected when you're doing something you're not supposed to.

"I like your thinking," she smiles as we tip toe (if that's even possible in heels) to the front entrance, where a lot of slutty-looking girls wore five inch heels they could barely walk in and dresses that barely covered their asses and sleazy-looking guys had "I have a big fat secret" written all over their faces were lined up. They're probably just using them for sex.

"I wonder how much those men are paying those sluts to come with them," Alex whispers to me.

"Is this how people dress at clubs?" I whisper back.

"From my observations, they're usually a bit more classy," she replies. "Maybe we didn't get the memo and tonight is 'dress-like-a-hooker' night."

When we get past the bouncers, it's pretty fucking dark inside, except for a few neon party lights that are roaming around everywhere. People grind and bump on the dancefloor to house music blaring from the speakers, while others are sitting in booths drinking their champagne and cocktails. Some of them are also…smoking? I didn't know you can smoke in clubs like these. I cough as I inhale some cigarette smoke coming from some middle-aged men in one of the booths.

"This is some club," I yell over the noise.

"Whatever you do, don't attract attention," she warns me as loudly as she can. "The boss's men could be anywhere in here."

"Why would they be here at a club like this?" I ask. "What did he mean by Maroni's party?" This is hardly a party to me.

"Beats me," Alex says. "I'm sure that 'party' they were talking about was business, and they didn't want to get caught. I don't know about you, but I say we scram as soon as we can. We won't be able to see the Joker if he's sneaking up on us."

"Come _on_," I plead. "You didn't help me get into this club for nothing, did you?"

"You know we're dead meat if we get caught," she gives me a serious look.

"Then let's not get caught," I shrug. "Let's see, I cut my hair, we gave you a make-over, _and _you're in a dress. Have any of those stupid clowns seen you in a dress?"

"Absolutely not," she shakes her head.

"Perfect," I smile. I snap my fingers at the bartender. "Two Cuba Libres please!"

"Right on," he smiles, showing off his pearly whites. Damn, he's kind of cute! Stop it, Hanna, you're with _Caleb_, I silently scold myself.

The cute bartender brings us our drinks in less than a minute, and after I take a sip of mine, I say to Alex, "I bet I can finish mine faster than you."

"Excuse me?" she raises her eyebrows.

"You heard me," I give her a challenging smile.

"Is this a challenge?"

"I guess," I shrug.

"You're on," she smirks, and we both sip our rum-and-cokes like there's no tomorrow. I finish mine a split second before she does.

"I want a rematch," she says. "Two more, please!"

That ended up being, like, _six _since it was pretty much even from there on out.

"What the hell!" I shriek, pointing to the stage from our seats at the bar.

Three topless women emerged from underneath the main stage, dancing seductively for everyone in the room.

"So the boss is doing business at a stripper club?" Alex spits out the last of her fourth Cuba Libre. "Yuck, so not classy…"

"And you were pissed he didn't invite you?" I giggle, feeling pretty buzzed.

"Hey, you're the one who convinced me to get you in to this…place," she mockingly accuses me.

She lets out a short scream and is frozen in her seat, not moving.

"Alex, what's the…" I turn around, and before I can finish my sentence, I find that I can't bring myself to say anything, either.

"Why so _serious_?"

God damn it. How does he _do _that?

* * *

Dun dun dun...


	10. Why do I Always Lose People?

Sorry for the late update! I've had this written for awhile, but I wanted to make sure it was good before publishing it. Sorry if it's a little short, but a lot happens. I don't own The Dark Knight or PLL, only original characters and this plot! Happy reading!

"Now, uh, _what _did I tell you, Lex, about _not letting her out of your sight! _Hm?" he holds the blade of his knife at her throat as he roughly throws me onto a chair when we get back to our hideout.

"Please," I plead with him. "It's my fault! I was the one that wanted to go. You should be mad at me…"

The Joker ignores me. "You…_disobeyed_ me, Lex. You brought my daughter into an _adult stripper club_. I don't like having my daughter exposed to that. _Not one bit._"

"That was some party, boss," Alex eyes him down.

"What _I _do is none of your business-_ah_," he jams his knife into her mouth. "I gave you orders, and you _didn't _follow them. You know what happens to people who don't follow orders," his voice is dangerously low, and she responds with a steady, fearless expression on his face.

"I'm a man of my word, Lex," he brings his face closer to hers until it's about two inches away. "Did you forget about my, uh, promise earlier?

Alex is speechless.

"No!" I scream. "If that's the case, you'll have to kill me, too! You told that to both of us."

"I'll deal with you," he kicks me to the side, "_later_." He turns back to Alex, who now looks like she's about to cry. I seethe a little as I crouch over in pain, breathing in and out.

"Why so…_serious_, sweetheart?" The Joker giggles as he cuts the blade of his knife into her throat until a waterfall of blood flows from her neck. Then he whips out a pistol and shoots her dead on in the middle of her chest. She spares me one last apologetic glance before dropping motionlessly to the floor.

"No!" I limp over to Alex and cry, kneeling next to her, stroking her head and trying not to get blood on my pants. Why is it that I lose everyone close to me? _Why_? First Alison, then my dad, Mona, and now _Alex_? I'm getting really tired of it. I sob uncontrollably, putting my head down on her body. I can feel the Joker trying to pull me up, but I refuse to let him.

"Get up, kid," he finally yanks me by my arm in a way that would've dislocated my shoulder, so I get up anyway as he drags me to his room in the run-down office building where my room is.

"How could you?" I sob, drunkenly pounding on his back as hard as I could. "She was my _friend_! She was my friend, and you fucking _killed _her!"

He throws me mercilessly into a room with a slightly bigger couch, a comfy-looking armchair, a TV, and a sink and mirror. I'm guessing his room used to be a lounge. Of course he'd give himself the bigger room. I fall to the ground, and I can feel my ankle searing in pain. I probably twisted it at some point, with these heels I'm wearing.

He heaves me onto the comfy armchair and kneels so that he's at my eye level, but I bury my face into my knees, still crying.

The Joker reaches in and cups my chin with his hands, lifting it so I'm not looking at him through my tear-stained make-up. I probably look like a raccoon now. I see no emotion in his eyes at all, just…darkness. I can't tell what's going through his head right now.

"Why you cryin', kiddo?" he asks me finally when I've calmed down a little.

"Are you really asking me that?" I sniffle. "I just watched you kill my friend! How could you do that to me?"

"It had to be done," he answers in that same, emotionless tone, but it isn't as cartoonish as usual. "She didn't _protect_ you, like I asked her to."

"But she did!" I insist. "She really, _really _did."

"It wasn't good enough!" he declares, slightly bitter. "I told her not to bring you there, and she does it anyway, putting you in _danger_."

"What were you doing at a _stripper club_, anyway?" I demand.

"It doesn't matter. Anyone who works with me…knows what happens when you _disobey_. Don't you? Hm?"

So that's it? No apology? Maybe I was wrong; maybe he's twisted and psycho forever and can't go back.

"Cat got your tongue, Hanna?" he asks me, addressing me by my name and not one of those tacky nicknames after I don't answer him. He isn't showing me any sympathy, but he isn't being heartless, either. He still cups my chin with his hands. When he's not threatening to hurt me, it's actually kind of soothing. But it could just be the leather gloves. I don't know how his hands aren't super sweaty, judging by how thick they seem to be.

I shake my head.

"Got anything to, uh, say?"

I look him straight in the eye. "I guess I deserve to die, then."

Before he can say anything in return, I get up from the chair and slam the door shut behind me. I storm into my room and grab my suitcases, shopping bags and make-up bag before running in my heels out the building.

I retrace my steps from when Alex first drove me back to Grammy's. I remember driving through a dark alley way, but at this point, I don't give a fuck about how scary those alleyways were; I just want to get back to Grammy's. I bet that's the last place he'll think of looking for me, if he even wants to find me. I bet he hasn't even thought of my mom's old place in years.

It's raining by the time I get to Grammy's, and probably two in the morning. Nevertheless, I pound on the door as loudly as I can for at least a minute before she finally answers.

"Hanna, is that you?" she squints at me through her doorway.

"Yes," I look to the ground, tears rolling down my cheeks. "It's me."

So what do you think will happen with Hanna and the Joker? Will he find her and kill her as a punishment for running away? Will he even care? Anything you'd like to see?


	11. Tea, Ice Cream, and a Surprise

Same disclaimers apply. Enjoy!

* * *

"What happened to you? Have a seat, let's make you some tea." She guides me inside and locks the door shut before turning on the light.

I'm shaking on her couch and hold the nearest blanket up to my chin, sniffling.

"What did he do, Hanna?" she continues.

"He…killed Alex…in front of me," I say slowly.

"Oh dear," Grammy shakes her head. "I can't say I'm not surprised."

"But he said it was because she didn't protect me enough," I continue. "Can you believe that, Grammy? She wasn't good enough for him, so _he killed her_?"

"Protect you from what, sweetie?" Grammy hands me my tea and sits next to me on the couch.

"For some reason he didn't want me at the place he was going to go with his little henchmen, so Alex and I decided to go. It turned out to be a bad decision anyway, because it turns out it was a strip club."

"Hanna!" Grammy looks at me in disbelief.

"That was my reaction, too," I admit, leaning back on the couch. "It's just…I wonder if I made a mistake coming to meet him, Grammy. He made Alex watch me the entire time instead of trying to get to know me, while he went off doing "business" with his stupid clown friends. We only had two real conversations, and they were short ones, too."

"At least he kept you safe," my grandma says thoughtfully.

"Grammy! Whose side are you on?"

"Yours, of course, but you're forgetting something."

"What?" I look at her impatiently.

"You're forgetting that he didn't know your mom was pregnant with you. Had he known, things might've been different. He loved your mom very, _very _much. He would die for her if he had to, I'm sure of it. And had _I_ known myself, I would have made your mother go back and tell him, but I can't do anything about that now." She pauses for a little before continuing, "At this point, after everything he's been through, he hasn't loved anyone in a very long time. It doesn't help that he's never been good with emotions to begin with. But the fact that he kept you alive and well despite everything should tell you something."

"So you think he does care?" I ask, taking a sip of tea.

"I think so," she replies. "Even if he might not show it in the ways you want or expect. But right now," she gets up to go to her room, "you need to rest. We can talk more about your father tomorrow."

"You mean the Joker?" I correct her. He doesn't deserve to be my dad, not one bit.

"He is your father, Hanna," she tells me. "Whether you want him to be or not. You don't have to like him, but you must accept that. Remember, you wouldn't be here without him."

It's been a week since I ran away from the Joker, and I haven't heard anything from him since. It's weird, though, it feels like de ja vu or something. Maybe because my mom did the same thing to him when she found out she was pregnant with me all those years ago. I can't help but wonder if I made the right decision in running. Maybe I was a little too harsh on him and expected too much. Ugh, what am I thinking? Of course I did the right thing. But if there's anything I've learned from him it's to never expect anything. Otherwise I'm just setting myself up for disappointment, just like I have now when I came to this damn city in the first place.

I stay in my bed for at least the next three days, munching away at Neapolitan ice cream, watching some of my mom's favorite movies when she was my age. Most of them are Audrey Hepburn movies, with the exception of _Clueless_.

I'm interrupted by the doorbell, to which Grammy says, "I'll get it!"

But something doesn't feel right, so I pause _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ and press my ear against the door.

"Jack," I hear my Grammy say. She sounds surprised. "Well, this is definitely a surprise."

"It's the _Joker _now," I hear the Joker correct her, his heavy footsteps pounding on the floor of my grandmother's townhome. I swallow as I continue listening.

"You'll always be Jack to me, dear," Grammy lets out a warm laugh. "Now what can I do for you? Would you like anything to eat?"

"No, thanks, I'm alright," he replies. Wow, the Joker actually has manners and can actually talk like a normal person? Who knew? "I just want to talk to _her_."

I quickly run back to the bed, place the ice cream on the sidetable and duck under the covers as far as I can.

"Hanna!" Grammy calls. "Could you come out here please?"

"I-I'm _busy_!"

"Bullshit," she declares. "You've been sitting in that bed eating ice cream for the past seven days. Now get your lazy ass out here!" Sheesh, this is the sassiest I've ever heard her, but I guess I know now where I got that from.

I kick the covers off and pull on a bra before slowly walking toward the kitchen and living room area, wearing hot pink sleeping shorts, a white tank top, and fuzzy blue slippers.

"Hello, Hanna."

* * *

So you all are in for a treat! I'm uploading two chapters today! Enjoy!


	12. Finding my Father

Same disclaimers as always!

* * *

My eyes grow wide as the Joker's eyes look directly into mine…and he's not wearing his stupid make-up for the first time! And he's actually wearing normal people clothes, a simple white shirt and black jeans, with black work shoes. Without all that make-up, he's actually not that scary looking. It turns out he has blond hair (which probably explains why I'm the only blond among all my relatives), brown eyes, and we have a similar smile (his real smile, not his psycho one), minus the scars around his mouth.

"Bet you didn't expect to see me out of…_costume_, did you?" he raises his eyebrows at me.

I shake my head slightly.

"Come here," he pats a spot on the couch next to him, and I look at Grammy, who nods encouragingly.

"I'll leave you two to talk," she says with a smile before going to her room.

I swallow and drag my feet to sit next to the Joker, careful not to look at him. I hope he can't tell that I'm shaking out of my mind right now, but he probably can.

"Why so serious, pumpkin?" he finally breaks the silence, and he doesn't draw out his syllables like he normally did.

Oh, so I'm a _pumpkin _now? "I…I'm still mad at you," I whisper, bringing my knees up to my chin and hugging them tightly.

"And you don't look too good," he raises his eyebrows again, shaking his head. "Not one bit."

"I've been eating Neapolitan ice cream for the past week. What do you _expect_?" I narrow my eyes at him, putting a hand in the air in frustration.

"Ooh, could I have some?" he asks with a smirk.

Is he kidding me? "No! I'm still mad at you, I told you!"

He laughs. It sounds the same as when he's laughing as a psycho, so I guess that's how he's always sounded. "So _this_ is what you're like when you're _angry_."

I huff and cross my arms across my knees before turning to look up at him. "Why are you here?"

His face gets uncharacteristically serious for a minute as he hesitantly reaches out to place a hand on my back. "I came back because…I didn't want you to run like your mother did."

How weird, I just thought about that earlier…

"And," he continues, "because I…" he pauses to compose himself, "might not be alive after today."

"Why not?" I ask, suddenly feeling scared.

"I have…unfinished _business_…to take care of," Bits of the Joker come through when he says that, but he's still relatively normal.

"What kind of business?" I ask again, kind of afraid of what he's going to say.

"Let's just say…if he doesn't come, people will _die_."

What? It can't be…those people on boats in the middle of the river? "You know, it's not too late for you to call it off."

"Oh, but it _is_, you see, I already sent those silly newspeople my _tape_."

"You make tapes?" Okay, now I'm confused.

"Yes," he nods, his voice going up a bit.

"Why haven't I ever seen you make any?"

"Because…I didn't want you to. I didn't want you to see any of the stuff I do."

"But you killed Alex in front of me," I remind him.

I can tell I struck a nerve by the way he grumbles under his breath. "I…I didn't mean to do that. And…I came here to tell you that…that…" He starts shaking a little. I can tell he's having a hard time with whatever he's trying to tell me.

"That what?"

"That…I'm…._sorry_. I, uh, didn't want to go through today without letting you know that. Or, um, _die _with the fact that my own _daughter _was angry with me."

I look down to the floor. I really hope he isn't acting or anything because now I really do feel bad for running off like that without giving him a chance to explain. And as much as he probably deserves what's coming to him, whatever that might be, I can't help but feel…_sad_. Other people would probably be relieved, _happy, _about it, but I'm not. I can't be. Not when my dad's walking right into his own death trap like this.

"You're not gonna die," I say quietly, my voice shaking. "I won't let you!" I stand up to scream at him. "I am NOT gonna just stand here and lose another person in my life!"

"Now, listen Hanna," he grabs my hand.

"_You _listen!" I screech. "Do you know what I've gone through in these past two years alone? _Do you_? I've lost my best friend, been tortured and harassed by someone pretending to be my friend _because of _my best friend! I lost the friend that made me feel like I was worth something, I lost the girl that helped me through her death, _and_ I lost who I thought was my father to some whore with a bitchy daughter. I am _not _gonna lose you, too!" I pant heavily as I plop back down on the couch, bursting into tears. "_Please _don't do it!" I plead to him, "Please, not when I'm finally getting to know you…"

Something must've broken in him when I yelled at him because right before I finish my sentence, I feel the Joker's arms come around me in a bone-crushing hug, and my body is soon smack against his. I stop caring as I cry into his t-shirt, hugging him back and holding him as tightly as I can. I feel like a little girl, snuggling up to him like this, but I don't care.

"Hanna," he begins, gently prying me off his body. "Don't get all _serious _on me, sweetheart." He wraps an arm around my shoulder. "Whatever happens after tonight, I want you to remember something. Can you do that?"

"S-sure," I nod with a small bob of my head.

"I know…I've been _absent _for most of your life, you can blame your mother for that, but I've come to care about you. Very, _very _much. No matter what happens tonight, I don't want you to _forget _that."

I guess that's the closest he'll ever come to saying he loves me, so I'll take it. As he gets up to leave, I stop him. "Wait."

"Ye-_es_?" he turns.

"Could _you _promise _me_ something?"

"That depends, kiddo, what is it?"

"Well, two things, actually…"

"Spit it out now, I have _things _to do," he taps his foot impatiently.

"One, _don't die_," I say firmly. "If anything, do it for _me._ Everyone else might think you're an insane, psychopathic freak, but deep down underneath your stupid make-up, you actually have a heart."

He takes a deep breath before answering. "I'll do my best, kid. What's the second thing?"

"Don't do anything stupid."

He rolls his eyes. "Fair enough." He opens the door to leave.

"Oh, one more thing!"

"What _now_?"

"I…I _love you_, Dad." I have no idea how I did that. Those words…have I really come to love him these past two months or so?

He doesn't say anything back, but gives me a slow nod before finally closing the door behind him.

"So how'd it go?" Grammy asks me, coming out of her room, but I can tell she already knows.

"Better than I thought," I answer honestly with a small smile. "I think things'll be okay after all."

* * *

So this chapter was tougher to write…Hanna and the Joker (in his own way) have a heart-to-heart, which ends with Hanna finally accepting him as her father. Now the question remains…will he survive? Will she see him again? I know in the movie he presumably doesn't (RIP Heath Ledger), but for this story's purposes, that question is still up in the air!


	13. Epilogue

_Same disclaimers apply!_

* * *

_Three weeks later…_

"Hanna, he's gone," my mom tells me over dinner. "Accept it."

I sigh. Now all I have left are Spencer, Aria, Emily, Caleb, and my mom. "I was just getting to know him, too! I mean, for someone as…smart…as he is, he can be so stupid sometimes!"

"Smart?" she raises her eyebrows at me.

"Well yeah," I shrug. "I mean, in his own twisted way, I guess. He did a lot of crazy shit…"

"Hanna, language!"

I roll my eyes. "But he never got caught because nobody knew what he was going to do next. Until the Batman came along, that is."

"Yes, well," my mom purses her lips and takes a sip of her coffee. "I'm glad you came back in one piece."

"Do you still love Dad?" I ask.

"You're calling him Dad now?" she gives me a grim smile.

I nod. "I might as well accept it, shouldn't I?"

"That's one way of looking at it," she nods, but I can tell she doesn't agree. "Do you really expect me to answer that?"

"Yes," I answer seriously with a firm nod. "After spending all that time with him, I'm pretty sure he still loves _you_."

"How can you be so sure?"

"He kept me alive and made sure nobody hurt me," I shrug. "I don't think he would've done that if you weren't my mom."

"You have a point," she agrees.

The doorbell rings, making us both squirm a little. I have another bad feeling in the pit of my stomach again, but I tell my mom, "I'll get it."

I open a door to a pizza guy holding out a large pizza box, holding his head down.

"Can I…help you?" I ask uncertainly.

"Why _ye-es_, I'm here to deliver a large pizza for a miss Hanna Marin?"

"Sorry, I didn't order pizza," I glare at him, shutting the door, but he pushes his way through anyway.

"Not so fast, _pumpkin_…"

Oh my God. I know that voice…it can't be. He survived? He actually listened to me? "…Dad?"

"Expecting someone else? Hmm?" He removes his baseball cap to reveal his dirty blond hair and scarred face.

"Caleb, maybe, but otherwise, not really." I run up to hug him. "Thank you."

"For _what_, exactly?"

"For listening," I smile up at him. "You didn't die."

"No, but I _did _break out of County…"

"Dad!" My jaw drops open before shoving him slightly. "So you're on the _run _now?"

He laughs his signature laugh before saying, "They'll _never _find me here, pumpkin, don't worry about _me_."

"Hanna, what's going…" Before my mom can finish her question, she nearly falls down at the sight of the Joker.

"Jack," she breathes. "How did you find me? How did you find _us_?"

"Your mother," he shrugs nonchalantly.

She breathes heavily, tears forming into her eyes before she runs up and gives him the fiercest kiss on the cheek ever. Before I know it, they're making out like teenagers right in front of me.

"I'm still here, you know," I fold my arms, staring them both down.

They both stop and look at me before looking at each other.

"Would you like to stay for dinner, Jack?" my mom asks, although I'm pretty positive now that she has more than just "dinner" in mind.

"Eh, sure, why not?" he shrugs and follows my mom and I to our kitchen.

I decide to let my mom and the Joker reconnect and catch up, so I go up to my room and read the latest edition of _Vogue_. Before I know it, I can hear them coming up the stairs, and I'm pretty sure they're headed to my mom's bedroom. I don't know if he's staying for good, or if this is just a one-time thing, but I finally got the closure I needed: _I found my father_.

* * *

So this story is officially COMPLETE! I hope the Joker wasn't too OOC here or in the last two chapters in general, but I thought it was an appropriate ending. Thanks for sticking with me!


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